The sinister feeling that had overcome Lucia earlier now coiled around her heart. What if Camille wasn’t the only one? What if whoever had killed her had also come up here and taken the life of another? Swallowing back her fear, searching deeply for her faith, Lucia fingered her rosary and called softly, “Sister Dorothy?”

From the corner of her eye, Lucia saw another door creak slowly open at the end of the hall. Sister Maura, her perpetual scowl in place, appeared. “What’re you doing?” she asked, pushing on a pair of thick glasses.

“The reverend mother has asked us to meet downstairs.”

“Why?” Deep creases furrowed Maura’s brow. She was a solemn woman, one Lucia didn’t know very well.

“She didn’t say. Please, just hurry.”

Another door opened. Sister Edwina glared at the small group. “What’s going on?” she demanded, flipping a thick blond braid over her shoulder. Taller than Lucia by five inches, Edwina was an athletic woman with a broad, Nordic face and high cheekbones. Her deep-set blue eyes were always stormy as she constantly needled a bad mood. “Why are you knocking at Dorothy’s door?”

Lucia explained, “The reverend mother wants us all in the dining hall.”

“Why? It’s the middle of the night!”

“I know.”

“What does she want?”

So many questions . . . “I’m sure the reverend mother wants to tell everyone herself.”

“And why are you up?” Sister Edwina demanded, glancing across the hallway to Lucia’s small room. “Why did Mother come to you?” she asked indignantly, as if she sensed a personal slight.

Lucia had no time for perceived personal affronts. She had her own worries to attend to. First there was poor Sister Camille, and then, of all the bad luck, Cruz Montoya’s brother was involved with the investigation. Her nerves were as tight as bowstrings. “Please, just dress quickly.”

“You know what’s going on, don’t you?” Edwina charged. She was always direct, always felt somehow as if she were being persecuted.

“It’s up to the reverend mother to say.”

“Right.” Irony dripped from her words.

The door to Dorothy’s room finally cracked open just a space. “What is it?” she asked through the slim opening. Dorothy, plump and always worried, didn’t sound the least bit groggy. Her voice held a whisper of suspicion.

Lucia delivered her short message. Other doors were opening as the noise in the hallway woke some of the others. Angela swept out of her room and, ignoring the sour look Maura cast her way, caught up with Lucia.

“I’ll help,” she offered while Edwina’s door slammed shut. “Don’t worry about her.” Angela turned away from Sister Edwina’s closed door. “She’s just mad because the reverend mother chose you to be her messenger.”